


Heir Presumptive

by Billxbesitztxmeinxherz



Category: Tokio Hotel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Royalty, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-11-16
Updated: 2011-11-16
Packaged: 2017-10-26 04:17:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/278605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Billxbesitztxmeinxherz/pseuds/Billxbesitztxmeinxherz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <div class="center"><a href="http://photobucket.com"><img/></a></div><br/><br/>William, Duke of Kent, is to become King of England on his eighteenth birthday. That is, if he can postpone his mother's attempts for him to sign a regency letter up until that time. Bill finds that he is the next piece in an elaborate game of wits, one that has all the women of England throwing themselves at him for the crown. And Bill's love life only continues to grow more interesting when his cousin, Prince Thomas of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha, comes into town.<br/><br/><div class="center"><b>God save the King</b></div>
            </blockquote>





	Heir Presumptive

_In 1819 a child was born in a London palace._

 _Due to the circumstances surrounding the child’s two uncles, this child is next in line for the throne. However many fear the consequences of such a young ruler being on the throne. Unless a regency letter is signed, the child will assume the throne at age eighteen._

 _A regent is assigned to govern the throne for a monarch who is absent, sick, or too young._

 

* * *

 

“How did you come to be down here?”

 

Gilded rooms. Large spacious gilded rooms with crown molding of gold are adorned by flower vases of fine china. Deep rich wood furniture sits perched upon many a threaded rug, adding a flare of maroon to the room. Across the way are several large windows that allow one to view the rose gardens outside and act as a main source of light in this mostly dark palace.

 

A woman with deepest brunette hair, reminiscent of a dark storm on the high seas, sat among her layers of dress watching the doorway. A tawny King Charles sat faithfully besides its master, little ears perked at the new presence in the room. The sound of a heeled boot resonated with a loud _clack!_ throughout the space as the person crossed the threshold.

 

“I was accompanied by my chamber maid.” A young boy with hair as black and shiny as his boots replied. The youth was dressed in a black frock coat with the smallest bid of embroidery at the sleeves, finished with silk cord of deep rose. A bit of the boy’s silk waistcoat was visible and the woman in the chair scoffed. The entire outfit was decorative without being fussy, yet denotative of status.

 

“And I take it she held your hand until you’d safely reached the bottom?” The woman raised an eyebrow in question.

 

“Yes.” The boy replied, thinking back on how he’d been escorted down the stairs. Such ridiculous practices were a part of the Kensington System, some of the practices being that the boy was never to be left alone to that the boy was to be escorted everywhere.

 

“Straighten yourself out, Bill.” The woman colored, easily upset, as she sipped delicately from a teacup.

 

“Yes Mother.” The boy inclined his head in a manner that appeared demure but was really was full of irritation.

 

“What is this blend?” The woman asked aloud to no one in particular. The woman set her cup down before straightening herself out so that her back was bent at a sharp slope. A butler fussing in the corner quickly dropped what he was doing and rushed to the woman’s side.

 

“It’s Darjeeling, Duchess.” The butler said barely above a whisper. It was mandatory for all members of the palace staff to never let one’s voice be heard by the ladies and gentlemen of the household, unless directly spoken to or statement which requires response, at which time, one was to speak as little as possible.

 

“Oh yes well,” The woman waved her hand to dismiss the man, “I knew that. Sir David Jost has been ordering an agglomeration of the stuff from India.”

 

“Mother?” The boy in the doorway shifted uneasily from foot to foot.

 

“What is it darling? Oh Bill! Don’t stand like that! You’re going to be king one day, you must carry yourself like one.” The woman sneered, back still perfectly arched. Simone, the Duchess of Kent, was not an easy woman to please. Something young Bill had learned many years ago and had reaffirmed everyday of his upbringing. It seemed that no matter how hard Bill tried to please Simone, the Duchess was always finding something else to scold Bill about.

 

“Mother, I was wondering if I’d be allowed to visit Earl Georg Listing today. The Earl’s birthday is coming up soon and I should like to see him before his schedule is swamped with the party.” Bill resisted the urge to wring his hands together as he so often did out of nervousness. The Duchess of Kent turned her gaze on her son and released a tired shuddering sigh as if Bill had just asked her to roll around in mud.

 

“Bill.” Simone’s emerald eyes narrowed, holding her son’s full attention. “You are not a child anymore. You’ll be turning eighteen in a matter of months, darling. You are heir presumptive and you as such you have a schedule to upkeep. Surely you can visit this Earl Listing later can you not?”

 

“But Mother-” Bill began before Simone held up her hand in silence.

 

“I will hear no more of it! Summon Clara and have her take you back upstairs. You’ll be accompanying Duchess of Argyll on a hunt this afternoon, make sure to wear something flattering! I’ve heard from a few sources that she’s a lovely girl and that she’s very interested in meeting you.”

 

“More like interested in the crown.” Bill muttered under his breath to not be heard. Then the raven-haired boy smiled sweetly at his mother before taking leave of the room.

 

Simone watched as her son gracefully exited the room, shoulders thrown back and head held as if a string were winding up the boy’s spine. As well educated and charming the heir presumptive was Simone still worried for her son and if he were to become king at such a young age. Bill’s wide brown eyes were still full of childish innocence and naive to the ways of the world. Bill had not taken the broad form of the late Duke of Kent but was rather slender and wiry. Such allowed Bill to excel at sports but what woman wished to marry a man slimmer than she? That in mind, what citizen wished to have a king that was weak in appearance?

 

“Lord help us.” Simone sighed, bringing her hand to her forehead. One of the butlers came to the Duchess’ side, about to offer more tea, when the doors of the drawing room burst open once more.

 

“Ah! Sir Jost!” Simone smiled at the gallant man that strolled across the room. Upon reaching Simone, the man dropped into a bow. Sir Jost then took the Duchess of Kent’s hand and pressed a soft kiss to the woman’s knuckles.

 

“Your Grace.” The man smiled through a row of pristine white teeth.

 

“What news have you?” Simone retracted her hand from the man. Sir Jost immediately rose to his feet and pulled from the depths of his coat pockets a piece of parchment encased in a leather binding. The man handed the piece over to the woman as Simone’s eye turned to the servants.

 

“Leave us.” Simone dismissed the staff members with a wave of her hand thus sending the help into a wild scurry to leave. Finally, when the large French doors to the drawing room were sealed shut, Simone rose to her feet and placed a soft kiss on Sir Jost’s cheek.

 

“You have done very well.” Simone smiled, slowly unrolling the parchment. “Very well indeed. It’s been worded correctly I presume?”

 

“Yes, your Grace.” Sir Jost moved closer as to point out specific paragraphs of the contract, “The regency letters states that the Duchess of Kent shall be regent to the throne of England until Bill, Duke of Kent, reaches age twenty-five thenceforth shall take the throne.”

 

“And King Leopold has yet to hear of this?”

 

“I assure you that your brother-in-law has no idea.” Sir Jost smiled.

 

“Then I shall talk with Bill tonight about signing the letter. You must not be too pushy with him, David. These situations require delicate timing and we don’t want to spook the boy.” Simone warned, face stern.

 

“I understand, your Grace. We must not spook the boy.”

 

* * *

 

“You must not spook them now.” Gustav, Duke of Saxe-Coburg-Saalfeld, warned. Gustav was a German that Bill had come to the understanding was Bill’s distant cousin through his mother’s side of the family. Young Gustav was a minor royal however and was sixtieth in line to take the throne in Germany. This did not seem to bother the boy at all, although he did make the occasional joke ‘ _I think I have a pretty good shot at the throne. Look at it this way, who says that there’s no chance of all fifty-nine of my relatives before me dying suddenly?_ ’. Bill found Gustav’s humor amusing but Simone was constantly lecturing her sister about her ill behaved son.

 

The two young Dukes made their way through the expansive lawn of the palace towards the horse stables. Bill had changed out of his stuffy formal attire in favor of a more comfortable riding outfit. The boy’s coat was expertly tailored in a dark green fashion with fat golden buttons that led all the way up to the boy’s delicate pale neck. Both Dukes wore cream-colored jodhpurs and shining black riding boots that stomped proudly through the grass.

 

“Your mother will have a fit if she catches us on her lawn.” Gustav laughed, sneaking a glance back at the imposing palace behind them.

 

“Oh let her fret.” Bill scoffed, slashing his riding crop through the air in a circular pattern. “I’ve just about had it with her and Sir Jost’s Kensington System. I’m not a child anymore. And what is this spooking business that you’ve spoken about?”

 

“Ladies, my friend, are a fickle thing.” Gustav smiled crookedly and Bill titled his head in wonder. “You may be fluent in English, German, French, and Belgium but the language of woman is entirely different.”

 

“You’re full of hot air.” Bill eyed his friend incredulously. “The language of a woman is no different than that of a man.”

 

“Oh really now? And what do you suppose it means if a lady were to smooth out her gloves?” Gustav challenged. The whinnies of horses could be heard in the distance but now as the pair approached closer, Bill was no longer so sure of himself.

 

“That her gloves have become wrinkled? Why should I care?” Bill crinkled his nose at the foul stench of manure in the hot summer air. Gustav seemed to pay no mind as he continued on.

 

“Wrong, mate! If a lady is to smooth out her gloves, it means that she is displeased.”

 

“What logic is that?” Bill squawked. “Gustav you speak as if you have a hundred wives! Now how many ladies actually accepted your offer to dance when you filled your name out on their card? How many ladies have you had the pleasure to have an audience with?”

 

“That’s not the point!” Gustav swatted at Bill with his riding crop and the raven-haired avoid the strike with a simple twist.

 

“Then what is?” Bill shouted exasperated.

 

“You wish to please the Duchess of Argyll? Then you must know the language of women! The Duchess of Kent will be displeased if you make a mess of this. Please Bill you must listen.”

 

“And I thought Sir Jost was pushy.”

 

“Hush you!” Gustav managed to swat Bill on the leg and the boy yelped. “Now when a lady drops her parasol, it means that she is expressing her feelings for you. When a lady bites the tips of her gloves, she wishes to be rid of you. When a lady…”

 

Bill listened in silence as his friend began to prattle on, most of the advice going in one ear and out the other. Bill honestly did not understand why women always had to make such a fuss over everything they did. Bill’s father, the late Duke of Kent, had told Bill as a small child that a husband must be stern with his wife so that she’ll obey without question. If a woman were to be given too much power, it would be unseemly in society and bring embarrassment to the husband. Women were always secondary to males; their place was at their husband’s side or in the parlor with the rest of the women.

 

“When a lady twists her handkerchief in her right hand, it means that her heart belongs to another. When a lady carries her parasol elevated slightly in her right hand, it means that you are being too forward. And finally when a lady exposes her thumb on her left hand, it means that she wishes to be kissed. Did you get all of that?” Gustav beamed slightly out of breath.

 

“Of course.” Bill scoffed.

 

“Alright then mate. Get in there and woo her Duchessship off her feet.” Gustav clapped Bill on the shoulder roughly, much to the other Duke’s dislike.

 

The pair finally entered the grand structure that was the royal palace's horse stables. It was a tad smaller than those kept at Kensington Palace, but was a magnificent building nonetheless. The rafters hung high overhead, revealing small slivers of the hay-filled lofts above. Stall after stall ran down the stretch of the barn, each with a reflective golden nameplate brandishing the names if various thoroughbreds and champions. The stable boys worked, pausing to acknowledge the duchy, before returning to shoveling hay or mucking out the stalls.

 

"William!" A female's voice called from the end of the barn. Bill followed the voice to find a well-dressed girl waving in his direction. Bill turned to Gustav and frowned in disapproval. A woman was to be seen, not heard.

 

"She's highly informal. It's what one gets after being raised by those backwards French." Gustav snickered out from the corner of his mouth.

 

"It's unseemly." Bill whisper back horrified. "You're sure this girl is part of the Great Six hundred?"

 

"She is related to King Leopold," Gustav's mockery was apparent in his tone, "What a fine wife she'd make. You're a lucky man Bill."

 

"Hush. Here she comes." Bill spoke through a clenched smile.

 

"William!" The Duchess cried, blonde corkscrews trembling violently against her cheekbones. The rest of the girl's hair was gathered up a bun that tucked beneath the safety of her hat. It was a pathetic thing, that Bill had no doubt would fall off a few times during their ride, but fashion was everything to the women of this class.

 

"Brett." Bill smiled. The Duke took the Duchess' outstretched hand and pressed a soft kiss to it. "My how long it has been?"

 

"And you have only grown more handsome in age." Brett fluttered her eyelashes as if shy. She then lifted her riding crop over her shoulder when Gustav gave Bill a sharp nudge to the ribs. The Duke could only stare at Duchess in what seemed to be annoyance.

 

"Shall we ride out to the stream?" Gustav asked. The Duke's voice was raised and immediately stable boys seemed to emerge from nowhere with three prepared horses. Each of the three was helped to mount his or her horse before being led outside. Bill's eye caught the Duchess of Argyll fussing with her skirt and the Duke stopped his horse along side her's.

 

"Excuse me for keeping you waiting." Brett's freckled nose flushed with determination. One of the stable boys stepped forward to help untangle the Duchess' dress, when Brett slapped the boy's hand away with her riding crop.

 

"Do you require assistance?" Gustav chuckled, pulling his horse up along side the woman as well.

 

"I am fine." Brett gritted her teeth, tugging sharply at the folds of cloth, before the dress was pulled free from beneath the saddle. The Duchess then swung her legs round so that both were draped over one side of the horse. "I envy you men and your advantages in riding."

 

"Come now, it mustn't be so bad." Gustav laughed although Bill's face had turned grim.

 

"The day flies by," Bill interrupted, "Let us ride."

 

Then without even waiting for the two Dukes, the Duchess of Argyll shot forth down the dirt trail. Bill frowned and brought his horse around before sending Gustav a look.

 

"She does not wait for the men to ride first, she refuses to use titles, and she speaks put of turn. She is a disgrace to her family and mine." Bill said tightlipped and an even tighter grip on the reins.

 

"Perhaps this is not a wise match." Gustav murmured in reply as the two set off at a controlled canter.

 

"Her intentions for the crown are repulsive. Did you see the way she beckoned me with her riding crop?"

 

"Then let us pray that some fool from the East India Trading Company will take her with him on his next route. Heard India is lovely this time of the year." Gustav sniffed rather haughty and Bill cracked a smile.

 

"Such nonsense. You, sir, have never even so as stepped outside of Europe!"

 

"And you, your palaces." Gustav retorted.

 

"William! William come and ride along side me!" Brett called from further up the trail. Bill cast Gustav a withering look before breaking onto a trot to join the fussy Duchess.

 

It was by noon that the sun became too hot for the trio and they stopped to rest beneath a tree. The horses were grazing on various shrubberies along side the trail and the shade felt cool against the flushed skin of the Dukes and Duchess. The Duchess of Argyll had proven to be quite an accomplished rider, though her childish gossip about the latest scandal happening in France bored Bill to no end. And while it was totally inappropriate of Bill’s rank, he decided to have some fun and provoke the Duchess.

 

“And where are you and your mother staying in France at the moment. If you don’t mind me asking.” Bill smiled daintily and Brett flushed with color.

 

“Oh well, my mother and I are staying at Palais des Tuileries with Louis Philippe, he is a friend of my mother’s.”

 

“I’ve heard that the palace over looks the River Seine, correct? The view must be stunning in the summer.”

 

“I think so as well.” Gustav chipped in, sending his friend a devious smirk.

 

“Oh it is simply to die for! You and the Duchess of Kent must come and visit us there! The courtyard has the most wonderful fountain like I like to stroll about during tea.” Brett bubbled.

 

“Oh?” Bill looked to Gustav who was smirking.

 

“Are you mocking me?” The Duchess suddenly gasped, Bill’s knowing smirk immediately dropped. Then the young Duke took the Duchess’ hand and pressed a soft kiss to it.

 

“I would even so think of doing such a thing.” Brett found that she could not properly access the situation with Bill’s warm eyes staring at her like that.

 

“You must excuse me for accusing you so. I often become not myself in exceptionally hot weather.”

 

“Then shall we return to the palace? I’m sure our mothers must have had their fair share of gossip for the day.”

 

* * *

 

Bill stood watching himself in front of the mirror as his chambermaid attended to changing him. The boy’s long dark hair was the longest it had ever been and Bill liked to keep it that way, no matter how many times those snooty women of the court told Bill that short hair was now the current style. The young Duke’s jacket was removed, with its many pads, to reveal just how small the future King of England was to be.

 

“Would you like a wash before you retire to bed, your Grace?” One of the maids asked head ducked out of respect, as it should be.

 

“No.” Bill shook his head as he was slipped into his nightshirt. “Have I received any personal letters today?”

 

“You have received one from Prince Alexander of Orange-Nassau who wishes to speak to you about meeting his younger sister… and you have received one letter from Germany, your Grace.” Bill’s back stiffened and he swiped the two letters out of the maid’s hand.

 

“Leave me.” Bill said flinging the first letter in the pile to the floor. He could sense that the maid had yet to leave, hanging around for God knows what, and Bill sent the wretch a glare.

 

“Now!” Bill thundered and the maid fled.

 

Once Bill was sure that he was alone, the boy stroked a thoughtful finger down the crisp white envelope. There was no mistaking the distinctive handwriting on the front of the letter, curling black ink spelling out the name of the Duke of Kent. Bill found himself smiling as he retrieved his letter opener before taking careful care as to not accidentally nick the letter itself as he opened it. Finally Bill pulled the letter from the envelope, the sweet smell of rosemary filling the room. Bill had come to relish the smell and with trembling fingers, Bill began to read.

 

* * *

 

 _Dearest cousin,_

 _It has been far too long since I have last spoken with you. I’m afraid that many other things here have consumed my time at Schloss Rosenau but there is not a day that passes that I do not think of you. Just the other day, Oma spoke of how much you have grown. I am sorry to say that we missed each other at Prince Alexander’s birthday party. What a gay event it was! I had left by the time you arrived, but Gustav told me of how Alexander made an utter fool of himself when he asked Isabella of Spain to dance! How I have longed for such an occasion by Alexander only to miss it!_

 _I wish to congratulate you, cousin. It was not too long ago that you were the merry little boy that fell from the apple tree in my family’s garden. Where has the time gone? Now you are to become King of England! You will be a fine leader and king, I am sure of it. The next matter in which I write to you is a serious one._

 _My uncle, Leopold, has requested that I come to England to help keep an eye on you. Uncle does not trust this Sir David Jost and rumors of your mother becoming your regent have been all the gossip here in Germany and in Belgium. I plan on arriving at Kensington in a few days time._

 _Speaking of homes, your new home is coming along quite well. I’ve heard that it will be completed for you by the time of your accession. I look forward to seeing your coronation and Buckingham Palace upon its completion. You truly are the beginning of a new era, Bill. I can feel it._

 _Sincerely yours,  
Prince Thomas of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha_

 

* * *

 

 _Dear Thomas,_

 _Mother did not inform me that you were coming. I’m afraid in these times that she keeps much from me as my eighteenth birthday draws closer. Did you know that I would be the first monarch to live in Buckingham Palace? It’s quite exciting but the Duchess of Kent has voiced her desires to move in with me. There are many things I wish to talk about, but I would prefer to tell you them in person. I am eagerly awaiting your arrival._

 _Uncle Leopold and I do not see much of each other anymore. His court has kept him busy just as my schedule has been filled with prospects for marriage. I do not wish to marry at such a young age. How has your life been? Are you still courting Princess of Marie of Denmark? You have not written about her as of late._

 _As for the matters of regency, this new letter will not be the first of its kind. I will refuse to sign it just as I have in the past. Unfortunately, for my mother, the day will never come where she sits upon the throne of England._

 _Your dearest cousin,  
Duke William of Kent_


End file.
